Grave Intentions

by Sjoberg, Lori

  Delivery was good. Until he was certain of her safety, he’d do everything in his power to keep her out of harm’s reach. He couldn’t protect her forever, but tonight he’d make sure she stayed safe and sound.

  It wasn’t until much later, while they lay curled up on the living room couch, that Sarah and David saw the story on the news.

  “Late breaking news tonight. An explosion rocked a central Florida research facility, leaving two dead and six injured. Authorities have yet to release the names of those killed in the blast at Cava Technologies, located near the Burnett Medical Center in south Orlando.”

  Sarah bolted upright on the couch, her attention riveted to the screen. Picking up the remote, she cranked up the volume.“The explosion shook nearby homes a little before seven this evening. At this time, investigators have yet to determine the cause. Eyewitness News will keep you informed with the latest information as soon as it becomes available.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “Are you okay?” David asked. Gently, he eased the remote from her hand and put an arm around her shoulders.

  Sarah nodded, her eyes wide and unblinking. The report left her with so many unanswered questions it made her head spin. Which lab blew? How? And most important, who died in the blast? She supposed she should consider herself lucky. If she hadn’t called in sick that morning, she might have been working at the time of the blast.

  In her mind, she ran through the layout of the complex, trying to figure out what could have triggered the explosion. The facility consisted of twelve labs, two storage rooms, and the main office area. Most of the labs—her own included—utilized some sort of flammable chemical in their research, but usually not in large enough quantities to pose a significant danger. Chenevert used an anaerobic hood to study bacteria in Lab One. Perhaps the gases used in the chamber came in contact with an ignition source. But what? And who would have been working so late in the day?

  Panic flashed through her when she thought of Jackie. With Sarah out sick, her assistant probably worked late to pick up the slack. A single mother, she was quick to take on extra shifts, often helping in the other labs whenever they needed a hand.

  No way could she sleep until she knew her friend was safe. She grabbed for her phone and started dialing.

  chapter 19

  Against David’s better judgment, Sarah went to work the next morning. Not that he had much choice in the matter. Wild horses couldn’t have kept her away from the lab. She’d spent half the night calling friends and colleagues, trying to make sure everyone was safe while piecing together a picture of what happened.

  By six-thirty she was dressed and out the door, determined to inspect the damage herself. It was understandable, the overriding compulsion to check on her life’s work. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

  His cell phone rang a few minutes shy of seven.

  “I’m here and I’m alive,” she announced, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. He still feared for her safety, and had insisted she call the moment she got to work.

  The knot in the back of his neck loosened a little as he breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Glad to hear it. How does the lab look?”

  “I don’t know. I just pulled into the parking garage.” The radio went silent when she cut the engine. “The place is swarming with police.”

  No surprise there. Honestly, he was amazed they let anyone get within a quarter mile of the building. “How does it look from the outside?”

  “Bad. From what I can see, the south wall is completely destroyed. My lab’s on the far west side of the building, so I’m hoping the blast didn’t make it that far back.”

  “I’ll keep my fingers crossed. Any idea when you’ll be home?”

  He could hear the smile in her voice. “Not yet. Why, you have something in mind?”

  “Always.” He knew he was grinning like an idiot but he didn’t care. “Give me a call when you’re ready to come home, okay?”

  She blew an audible kiss before hanging up, and he felt like he’d just conquered the world.

  He’d done it! Against all odds, he’d altered fate and saved Sarah. And better yet, she knew who and what he was and loved him anyway. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such a woman, but he was eternally grateful.

  Since his first appointment of the morning wasn’t until ten, he took his time getting ready. After a nice long run to bleed out the rest of the adrenaline, he ate breakfast and read the morning paper with his feet propped up on Sarah’s coffee table.

  He was just shutting off the water in the shower when he sensed a mild disturbance in the air, letting him know that he was about to have company. In a hurry, he whipped back the curtain, only to be confronted by cool air and a pissed off Samuel.

  “Been a busy boy, have you?” Samuel growled through clenched teeth. The air around him crackled with power as he glared at David with a look of contempt.

  David tried to reach for the towel, only to discover he couldn’t move. Or breathe. He was helpless, paralyzed, standing naked and dripping wet in front of his boss.

  Talk about being on the wrong end of a power trip.

  The invisible force tightened around his neck, cutting off any hopes of breathing in the immediate future. Stars danced in front of his eyes as his focus latched onto Samuel, who looked angrier than David ever thought possible.

  “You reckless, selfish, bloody idiot. I would have expected this level of insolence from some of the others, but not you,” Samuel snarled, his dark eyes burning with disdain. “Do you have any idea what kind of damage you’ve caused with your little stunt? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t send you straight to judgment.”

  Easier said than done, especially when breathing wasn’t an option. Which was probably a good thing since he was coming up snake eyes in the excuse department. In the end it didn’t really matter, since Samuel didn’t strike him as being in the mood for listening.

  The hold around David’s neck loosened, allowing him the opportunity to breathe. Not knowing how long it would last, he gulped the air in greedy gasps. When his lungs no longer felt like they were about to explode he said, “Christ! Would it have killed you to wait until I put some fucking clothes on?”

  Samuel smirked. “Modesty is the least of your concerns at the moment.” He sighed, shook his head. “But if you insist …” His features relaxed, and the force immobilizing David evaporated.

  David yanked a towel off the rack and wrapped it around his waist. Call it a power thing, but he wasn’t comfortable discussing the fate of his immortal soul with his junk on display.

  “Thank you.”

  Samuel didn’t say anything right away. Anger played over the harsh planes of his face, mingled with traces of disgust and dismay. “You so disappoint me, boy.” With a shake of his head he turned, walking out of the bathroom with the unspoken command for David to follow.

  “I’m sorry I disappointed you,” David said as he followed Samuel into the living room. He’d known this moment would come. There would be Hell to pay—literally and figuratively—for an offense of this degree. The only question left was the severity of the punishment. “I don’t expect you to understand why I did what I did. All I can do is apologize and accept whatever punishment you want to dish out.”

  “It’s not so easy as dealing out retribution, you bloody moron,” Samuel said, his voice taking on a tired tone. Turning away from David, he clasped his hands together behind his back and stared out the window. “The situation warrants more extreme measures.”

  Oh goody. What was it going to be this time? Ten years in an African war zone? A tour along the Pakistan-Afghanistan border? Maybe a couple months in Detroit? David steeled himself for the worst Samuel had to offer.

  “Fate takes great pride in her creations, working tirelessly to weave the tapestry of humanity. She doesn’t take kindly to interference. She was most … displeased with your recent actions.”

  “I’m sorry, but I had my reasons.” David moved s
o he was standing a few feet to Samuel’s left. From there, he saw Samuel’s gaze fixed on two teenagers in the parking lot, practicing tricks with their skateboards. The younger kid flipped his board up, miscalculated the landing, and crashed hard on the pavement, eliciting a faint chuckle from Samuel.

  “See those boys?” Samuel pointed to the pair. “The skinny one’s scheduled to expire in three weeks. Brain aneurysm. No one in his family will ever see it coming.”

  He turned then, facing David. “Bad things happen to good people all the time. You know this as well as I. Puppies die, and churches burn. Fate has her reasons for what she does; it’s not my place to question the motivation. Or yours.”

  “If she holds so much power over life and death, how was I able to save Sarah in the first place?”

  “Good question, one I dare not ask while Fate’s in such foul spirits.” Samuel rubbed his chin in contemplation. “My main concern at the moment is determining the consequences for your actions. We’re at the point where there isn’t much I can do to you that you’ll actually care about. And the punishment should fit the crime, so to speak.”

  David resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Samuel must have been an actor in his previous incarnation, because he certainly had a flair for the dramatic. “Cut the bullshit, Big Daddy, and get it over with. You wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t already figured out what you were going to do to me.”

  Samuel’s eyes darkened with humor. “Touché. You know me well, Mr. Anderson. Very well, let’s get down to business, shall we?”

  He folded his arms across his chest, his posture even more rigid than normal. “In lieu of punishment, I’m placing you in charge of cleaning up the mess you’ve created. Since you have irrevocably altered the fabric of destiny, I’m going to give you two options to minimize the damage. You can either bring me the soul of Sarah Griffith …” He paused, eyes locking with David’s. “Or surrender your own.”

  It took a few moments before the shock wore off and David could speak. “But … but in order to deliver her soul, she needs to be …”

  “Yes. Dead.” A ghoulish smirk crept over Samuel’s face. “Oh come now, don’t tell me you’ve suddenly turned squeamish after all these years. It’s a relatively simple task. All you have to do is snap her pretty little neck. What’s one more in the grand scheme of things?”

  “But it’s only one soul,” David reasoned, fighting hard to keep the panic out of his voice. His pulse pounded in his ears, his heart beating like a jackhammer. “One out of seven billion. Why is it so much to ask for this one to be spared?”

  “One soul bears the capacity to inflict incalculable damage. Damage that wasn’t part of the original construct,” Samuel countered. “What if that one soul becomes, or inspires, the next Adolf Hitler or Joseph Stalin? Are you prepared to take the risk?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” David said, insulted by the insinuation. “Sarah’s not going to turn into Hitler.”

  “Perhaps not. But the butterfly effect is impossible to predict, especially when the parameters of destiny have been violated. The death of Sarah Griffith was woven into Fate’s grand design. By removing that thread from the fabric, you altered the pattern. It must be corrected immediately.”

  “But murder is a sin,” David said, switching tactics.

  “Since when does that bother you?”

  The comment stung, but David had just enough sense to let it slide. “I could work extra time to make up for it.”

  “Oh, you’ll be working extra time for this transgression, make no mistake about that.”

  The walls were closing in around him, making him more desperate than a coyote caught in a leg trap. “There must be something I can do.”

  Samuel pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is far from a simple infraction of the rules, Mr. Anderson. The manipulation of destiny, no matter how insignificant, sends ripples across the foundation of Fate. Do you have any idea how many lives were impacted by your irresponsible act of greed?” He shook his head, his expression making it painfully clear that the time for debate was over. “No. No, I cannot let this one slide. It would set a terrible precedent.”

  Samuel regarded him with a dispassionate look and an arched brow. “You have forty-eight hours. If you fail to deliver the girl’s soul by then, I’ll be coming for you. Understood?”

  David nodded, numb with despair.

  “Good boy. Think long and hard about the consequences of your actions.”

  The damage far exceeded her expectations.

  Police barricades blocked access to the main lab facility, but from Sarah’s vantage point on the top floor of the parking garage it looked like the building was a total loss. More than twelve hours had passed since the explosion and the air still reeked of smoke and burnt chemicals. Two of the outer walls had collapsed, and what hadn’t burned was now coated with a thick layer of flame-retardant foam.

  “Holy shit,” Jackie said, her eyes wide with shock. “Do they know what caused it yet?”

  “Not that I’ve heard,” Sarah replied, unable to stop staring at the mangled shell of her former place of employment. She wished she could get closer, but understood why the police insisted on keeping the employees a safe distance from the scene. “Jacobsen told me the FBI and ATF are on their way. They’re calling it an act of domestic terrorism.”

  According to Jackie, the injured employees consisted of lab prep workers and janitorial staff. Most of them suffered only minor injuries and had already been treated and discharged from the hospital. The police still hadn’t released the names of the dead. To the best of her knowledge, only one person remained unaccounted for—a genetic researcher who preferred to work the overnight shift.

  So who was the second casualty?

  Her gaze cut back to the building and she wondered how long it would be before she could continue her research. A week? A month? The answer depended on the severity of the damage. Thank God a copy of her research file was backed up at the facility in Minneapolis. Even if the lab was totally destroyed, most of the data could be retrieved from the secondary source. From there, she could resume the trials.

  “Ms. Griffith?”

  She turned to find two police officers, one in uniform and the other in regular street clothes, standing a few feet to her right. She’d seen them interviewing Jacobsen earlier and assumed they’d get to her eventually. “Yes. Can I help you?”

  The officer in plain clothes was a stout man, tall and big boned with a head like a pumpkin and a chin so large it engulfed his neck. A hefty paunch overlapped his belt, a nagging reminder that it was long past time to hit the treadmill. “I’m Detective Warner, this is Sergeant Herrera.” He motioned to the young Hispanic man beside him. “We’re with the Orlando Police Department. We’d like to ask you some questions if you have a few moments.”

  “Certainly.” She followed the pair to the far end of the garage where emergency workers were packing up their supplies. “What would you like to know?”

  Warner pulled a notepad from the inside pocket of his jacket and flipped it open. He did a quick scan of his notes before speaking. “According to our information, Ms. Griffith, you’ve worked in the main research building for the past two years. Is that correct?”

  Sarah nodded. “Yes. My research is … well, was being conducted in Lab Two of the main facility.”

  The detective retrieved a pen from the front pocket of his shirt but didn’t write anything down. Apparently, she hadn’t told him anything he didn’t already know. “We spoke with your employer a few minutes ago,” he said, glancing down at his notes. “A … Mr. Angelo Cavalli.” His eyes flickered up, as if gauging her reaction. “He said you aren’t very happy with your job at Cava Tech.”

  “I like my job just fine. It’s my boss I’m not happy with.”

  “Care to explain why?”

  “Not really.”

  Warner met Herrera’s gaze, a silent conversation passing between them. “Mr. Cavalli said you were recently demote
d.”

  Sarah bit back a curse. How thoughtful of Angelo to throw her under the bus at his earliest convenience. It didn’t surprise her, but it still managed to spark her temper. “Yes, I was,” she replied, her voice clipped. “Did he also tell you why?”

  “He said it was based on your recent job performance.”

  Son of a bitch. “No. It was because I refused to sleep with him.”

  Detective Warner jotted something on his notepad. “Can anyone substantiate your allegations?”

  “They can, but if they want to keep their jobs they won’t.”

  “I see.” The detective looked up, his brown eyes cold and calculating. “Mr. Cavalli also stated you were scheduled to work on the day of the explosion. Is that correct?”

  “It is.”

  “And why weren’t you there?”

  Like he didn’t already know. “I called in.”

  “Why did you call in?”

  Sarah shoved her hands into her pants pockets. She was getting a really bad feeling about this line of questioning, like she was being set up to take the fall for something she didn’t do. “I’m sure you already got this information from Mr. Cavalli.”

  “Yes, but I need to verify it with you.”

  “I called in, using my personal time.”

  “Why did you take personal time?”

  “I wasn’t feeling well. I had food poisoning,” she said, repeating the lie she’d given Angelo’s secretary the morning she called in sick.

  Warner and his partner had another wordless discussion. Herrera nodded and then Warner asked, “Did you stay at home all day while you were sick?”

  “I did. The only time I left my apartment was to get the mail.”

  “Was anyone with you?”

  “I live alone,” she said, not wanting to drag David’s name into the fray.

  “I see.” He gave her an odd look and then scratched something else in his notepad.

  “Is it safe to assume you’re asking so many questions because Angelo’s trying to blame me for the explosion?” she asked, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.